


breathe out (so i can breathe you in)

by ndnickerson



Series: everlong [1]
Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Shared Dream, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned are accidentally exposed to an experimental compound, with unexpected results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathe out (so i can breathe you in)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Foo Fighters' "Everlong."

The case was the first of the school year, her sophomore year, Ned's senior year at Emerson. Classes had barely started, and the August sun was just beginning to burn the leaves off the trees; the heat turned pavement into lakes of simmering misery.

She was investigating a theft at the research lab, and she couldn't get a straight answer about what exactly they had been working on, what was missing, or who might be interested. Eventually, though, she and Ned had tracked down the culprit, in the parking garage at the athletic complex. In the heat of the scuffle one of the vials of the stolen compound had broken, and the thief was able to get away unexposed—only to run into the arms of the police officers Nancy had alerted a few minutes before.

The thrill of finding the solution to the case had been tempered with her fear as the EMT examined them both. She watched the thermometer as her temperature was taken, took note of her blood pressure, winced as the technician angled the needle to take a vial of blood.

"You seem fine," the EMT said, making a few final notes on the clipboard. "If there's anything unusual in your blood screen I'll let you know, but you're fine. Better than fine, really."

Nancy had seen that expression a thousand times. "I have a boyfriend," she said, not unkindly, reaching for her backpack. "Thanks."

She took Ned's hand on their way out, tipping her face back to feel the sunlight on her skin. "So, great start for your senior year or what?" she said with a grin.

He bumped his hip against hers. "Any time with you," he said, lacing his fingers between hers.

\--

She was dreaming.

She was dreaming that she was having sex with Ned. And she never dreamed about that.

She was seeing the scene from outside; she could see Ned, could see herself. Naked and she was on top of him. She furrowed her brow: did her bare breasts really look like that? So... perfectly fake looking?

She shook her head. So she was aware and dreaming. So she could change it. She closed her eyes, imagining something else. Imagining herself at the controls of a Cessna, high above the earth, light as air.

Dream-Nancy moaned. "Oh, that feels so good," she whimpered breathily ( _my voice doesn't sound that... slutty_ , Nancy thought) as she pushed herself up on her knees, manipulating Ned's cock—

Nancy's eyes widened and she glanced away. While she and Ned had fooled around a pretty good deal, he'd never gotten her naked, not yet, and she hadn't yet seen him naked. Practically naked, yes. Not...

_Is that what it looks like?_

Dream-Nancy let her knees slide apart and slowly lowered herself onto his cock, arching in pleasure. She was too tan, too. And Ned was just gazing up at her, looking ridiculously satisfied, plucking at her nipples as dream-Nancy undulated against him, moaning.

Nancy felt a soft clench between her own thighs and rolled her eyes.

"Tell me how much you want it, baby."

As dream-Nancy moaned some of the filthiest things Nancy had ever heard, some of which she couldn't even begin to understand, Nancy studied her boyfriend. He looked leaner, taller, more muscular, and somehow less handsome.

Then he rolled over, and dream-Nancy giggled, her legs falling open to him.

She hadn't ever really let herself study a sex scene, not in a movie, although it wasn't like she'd ever seen anything this graphic in a movie. She could see his cock, his balls, all of him, could see the (inaccurately shaved, she noticed) join of dream-Nancy's thighs, her naked (and still perfectly round, still fake) breasts. She watched Ned press his cock into this fake version of her, noticed the way the other girl's hips bucked up, the way she writhed under him. She moaned in ridiculously exaggerated ecstasy, especially since as far as Nancy could tell Ned hadn't even thought about touching her clit, and Ned's thrusts were harder, longer. Their orgasm was quick; less than a minute later she was screaming out his name and he was shaking over her, collapsing on top of her limp body.

Hmm.

It wasn't that she hadn't _thought_ about having sex with him. But her imagination or her attention span always seemed to veer away at some point before all the clothes came off, before she tried to imagine what she'd never actually experienced.

The dream faded. For a moment Nancy imagined the Cessna's cockpit, the expanse of blue sky before her.

It didn't hold nearly the same appeal.

She opened her eyes to the dark and tossed the covers back with a sigh.

\--

In the morning, she woke and brushed her teeth with the vague but unmistakable feeling that she had already brushed her teeth. Even after her shower, she felt sweaty, but that passed.

It was easier to shake the feeling when she was seated in the lecture hall for chemistry, drawing electron shell diagrams in her notebook. The professor was explaining transitions when the side door opened, and a slender Asian girl, hair in a smooth ponytail, walked in with a note in her hand, heading immediately to the professor. Nancy's teacher read the note, scowled, and dug through the detritus of the front desk until she found the class roll.

"Drew, Nancy Drew?" she called, and Nancy slowly raised her hand. "Go on."

Nancy scooped her book and notes into her bag and headed down the bleacher stairs, feeling the curious eyes of her classmates on her the whole time. The dark-haired girl stood waiting at the door, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"What's this about?" Nancy asked, as soon as the lecture hall doors were closed behind them. The girl had set off at a good clip, and Nancy quickened her stride to keep up. "Is it a case?"

The girl shrugged, pushing her gum from one cheek to the other. "Dunno. I do work study for Gurlock, and he tells me to go get you, I go get you."

_Gurlock._

The heat had turned her back to a layer of sweat under her bookbag by the time they rounded a curve in the path, and the dark stone front of the Harrison building rose from among the trees. It was set well away from the majority of campus, and the stone was still new, the sunlight still sharply reflecting off the plate windows.

It was when Nancy passed through the side doors and into the tangible barrier of the air conditioning that she suddenly thought of Ned. Gurlock was in charge of the special project, she remembered; the theft had been from his lab. While she had never met him, she still felt a thrill, wondering if there was more to it. She would have to grab Ned and tell him about this—

The girl keyed into the lab and pushed open the door, and Nancy stepped inside, then stopped short.

Ned was already there. So was Dr. Gurlock, a tall man with a tangle of dark hair, his pant hems walked off at the heels, wire rim glasses perched at the end of his nose. Nancy glanced from her boyfriend to the doctor, letting her bookbag slide down to her elbow, then her loose fingers.

"Ned?"

Dr. Gurlock walked over to her immediately. "Nancy?"

"Yeah," Nancy responded, slowly lowering her bag to the ground. "I am. What's wrong?"

"You and Ned over there were the only ones exposed yesterday, right?"

The work study student glanced up in interest. Gurlock dismissed her with a wave of his fingers, then checked the door behind her, sweeping his hair out of his face. Nancy glanced back to Ned, her exasperation growing.

"Yes," she said, slowly. "I mean, Justin was there but he was pretty much in the elevator by the time—"

"And who had more exposure?" Dr. Gurlock rubbed his hands together, not quite looking at the two of them. A nerve in his jaw was twitching.

Nancy and Ned glanced at each other. She thought back, remembered that he had been a step ahead of her—

That _feeling_ came back, of double vision, of déjà vu.

Ned shook his head at the same time she did. "I—I did," he said, a little frown on his face.

"But not by much."

Nancy nodded. "The EMT said we were fine."

Dr. Gurlock glanced up sharply. "Take any blood?"

"Yeah," Nancy said. _What the hell._

_I mean, if anyone looked more like a mad scientist._

She smiled, for an instant, before Gurlock turned his gaze back to her. He rubbed his forehead. "Look, I... I need you two to do something."

"Why?"

Gurlock pushed his hair back again, his gaze flinching away from them. "If anyone finds out, that you two were exposed— I just, both of you, get over here."

It was a little ridiculous, she thought, after Gurlock directed them to stand facing each other, their arms up around each other's necks. _Like a slow dance,_ he said.

 _The most awkward slow dance in the world,_ she thought, and wondered if he had ever danced in his life.

"Now take your thumbs and start at the point of the jaw, slide back, behind the ear—"

They did it at the same time. Ned had a small smile on his face; being so close to him always flipped a switch in her, and she found herself gazing up at his mouth, his gorgeous eyes, and it was—

_like a slow dance._

His thumbs found the shallow notches behind her ears at the same time that hers found his.

And her knees buckled.

It wasn't—it wasn't _just_ the intimacy, the tenderness of the touch. And it _was_. It was all those things.

She could feel him.

And she knew he could feel her. She could see it, through her swimming eyes, the startled glance, the part of his lips.

_Nancy—_

It was his voice but he hadn't spoken. It pulsed warm, feeling like it echoed in her, golden, and a pair of tears slipped down her cheeks in answer. She was suffocating. She was drowning. Her heart was racing, and she _knew_ his was.

It was like she had never seen him before. It was like she had never felt his skin against hers before, like every single moment between them before was _nothing_ in the face of this.

_Ned_

He let out a long sigh, his wide-eyed gaze still locked on her.

"Fuck," Dr. Gurlock said. "Oh sweet fuck. It happened."

"It was _you_ ," she said aloud. "That dream last night."

Ned dropped his hands, his brow furrowing, and the terrible thing was that it didn't _stop_ , it didn't lessen. He was still there, in her head, _inside_ her in a way that had nothing to do with that damned dream.

"I don't remember what I dreamt last night—"

And she thought it at him, called it forth, the image of them tangled together, of her-but-not-her giggling and moaning under him, and Ned flushed a deeper red than she had ever seen him.

"Did you just—"

Nancy turned to Dr. Gurlock, letting her hands drop away from Ned's face. "What were we exposed to?" she demanded, and for a terrible second, before she could stop herself, she reached out to the doctor, but she felt only mounting panic, curiosity, wild jealousy.

Ned, though. The chaos of Ned's thoughts, of his mortification and anguish and even, yes, even a little arousal, all that was clear to her. She could feel him retreating from her, curling up in himself in shame, and she reflexively glanced up at him.

_It's okay. It was just—unexpected._

Dr. Gurlock gasped. "You're doing it right now, aren't you."

Nancy turned back to him. "What. Were we. Exposed to?" she asked again, taking a step toward him.

Dr. Gurlock had been raising his hands, his face tilted. Under the heat of her anger he glanced away. "It's— you have to understand, it's a government contract, military contract, and it's not meant for human testing yet, we haven't gotten that far. This— this wasn't supposed to happen. I can't believe it fucking worked. Is it— is it true telepathy?" He glanced between them again, eyes bright. "Even right now, without touch?"

They nodded, mutely. Denying it seemed ridiculous.

Two days ago she would have burst into hysterical laughter at the thought. It was impossible.

 _Can't believe she saw that,_ she felt Ned think, could almost see him shuffling his feet in embarrassment.

Dr. Gurlock took them through a series of

_standard? how could anything in this situation be standard?_

tests, showing Nancy a card and having her tell Ned what it was, and vice versa. She felt time pass, watched the clock tick over as her chemistry class ended, as her French class began without her. Ned's mortification lessened gradually, but every time she glanced in his direction she felt it flare in him again, red and prickly-hot.

"This will wear off, right?"

Ned was hitching his bag onto his shoulder, still looking away from Nancy. Dr. Gurlock tried to manage a reassuring smile.

"Sure. Sure it will. I'm sure it will. It has to," he muttered to himself, sorting through his notes. "You two cannot talk about this."

They glanced at each other. "You mean if anyone asks—" Nancy started.

"I mean you _cannot talk about it_ ," Dr. Gurlock said, emphasizing every word with a stab of his finger. "In my report I'm going to say it was destroyed. And if any—ill effects develop, you come to _me_." He stabbed the desk again. "For your own safety. You cannot trust _anyone_ with this."

Ned nodded first, and Nancy joined him. "Okay," they agreed.

Dr. Gurlock nodded. "And if you have some time next week to come by for a little while, that would be great."

They walked out of Harrison, not quite touching. She kept waiting for that feeling to fade, that awareness like a racing second heartbeat, the warmth of that connection between them, but even though they had not touched again, he was still there, in her head.

_I can't believe you saw that._

She glanced over at him. It was so strange.

_I'll forget I ever saw it._

_But I won't._

She looked at his hand, and made a halfhearted attempt to grab it, then reached out again. At the contact—

_fuck, oh fuck_

she had to fight to keep walking. She hadn't said anything about it, not through Gurlock's questions, not through anything, but touching him had always sent a bolt of electricity straight up her spine.

Now it felt like the sensation was multiplied a thousand times over. She couldn't escape him, couldn't hide anything from him, and she didn't want to. Ned squeezed her hand.

_Is that how you— look?_

A blush was still staining Ned's cheeks, a little, but he grinned. _Curious?_

Gurlock had said they shouldn't do this, shouldn't communicate this way in public, should probably do it as little as possible, but to anyone walking by they were just a couple in love, exchanging meaningful glances, hands swinging between them.

For a second she wondered what consequences Gurlock had feared if anyone else found out about their exposure, and found Ned wondering the same thing.

_I think we'll vanish. I think he knows they'll bury us so deep no one will ever find us._

_Could you read his mind?_

Ned shook his head. _I didn't have to. The fear was practically radiating off the guy._

Nancy glanced at her watch. _I can't even think about class right now._

_Me either._

\--

She was dreaming.

But she wasn't, and she knew that now.

They were in the library but the edges blurred; all that was in focus was the study carrel, and Ned, and her. Her-but-not-her. He wore a t-shirt and jeans and there was something off about him, again. His jawline wasn't quite right; the taper of his waist was too extreme.

And she. Nancy moved closer to her doppelganger, studying her with a smirk on her face. She wore a tartan schoolgirl skirt with a white shirt knotted to show a strip of tanned waist, and her hair was long, a mess of perfectly artless waves.

She had thought that if Ned was aware, this wouldn't happen again. Dr. Gurlock had babbled something about testosterone and metabolism, implying that Ned's more prolonged exposure and his cock had something to do with this unconscious connection.

It felt like bullshit. It felt like she just happened to be awake, and she could open her eyes and see the ceiling, but still, still, there was that tug, that curiosity.

She said his name. He didn't hear her.

It was when she tried to touch him that her hand slipped _through_ her doppelganger's and then she could feel it, the twist, the way of it, and she slipped into that other skin and was _herself_ and it was him, his skin under hers.

He blinked at her, and she knew he was awake, in his bed, right now. Just like she knew she wasn't wearing any panties under this skirt and her feet in wicked illogical heels were perched on either side of his hips.

"Nan."

The rich deep sound of his voice vibrated through her, golden and warm, echoing the man sitting before her in the t-shirt and jeans. His imagination was detailed enough to get the knee-high sheer stockings on her, but she could feel that her breasts were loose under the shirt.

And his hand was on her.

"At least this is a little different," she managed to force out, bringing her knees together.

Ned put his hands on her knees and pushed them apart again. "You're awake."

"Yeah," she admitted, her gaze lingering on his face. He was _himself_ again, and here his touch didn't awaken that painful awareness, because the contact wasn't real. "You're awake."

"I wasn't." He kissed her knee, his lips lingering on her skin, and drew the stocking down.

Nancy shifted. "This is how you think of me."

He glanced up at her. "You don't?"

She shook her head, jumping a little as he took her shoe off, pulled the stocking off and dropped it on the floor. "I don't really fantasize about fucking you in a study carrel."

"You don't really." His eyes were glowing. His grin sent a shiver up her spine.

"At least you look like yourself again."

He paused, one finger crooked under her other stocking. "Who did I look like before?"

"Not—not you."

He pulled the other shoe and stocking off, letting the heel smack to the floor.

She bit her lip and leaned forward, taking the hem of his shirt in her hands, and he obediently raised his arms, letting her pull it off. His chest was just the way she remembered.

"Stand up," she whispered.

Her legs were still open, loose around his waist, as he pushed himself up. He slowly unbuttoned her shirt as she unfastened his jeans, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pushing them down.

His cock was thick and flushed with arousal, curved up against his belly.

"I think when you," he began, but then she gently, curiously, brushed her fingertips down the underside of his shaft and she _felt_ it, felt him jerk in his bed over at Omega Chi.

"God," she mumbled, but then he pushed her shirt open and found her breasts—

and in the darkness of her room she opened her eyes, gasping, her nipples hard, breasts aching for his actual touch, and she could feel Ned close his fist around his cock, a pale imitation of what he really wanted.

She yanked her nightshirt off, leaving her naked save her panties.

In the dream, though, she wasn't wearing any. In the dream he knew what she wanted and he was gently rubbing his thumbs over her nipples, slowly, and she was arching into it, her head tilted back.

And she knew what he wanted

( _mouth, fingers, pussy, anything, on his cock_ )

and she tightened her legs and he sat down obediently in the chair, naked, and she pushed herself off the desk and onto his lap.

"It's not real, is it," she whispered, and in the dark, in her bedroom, her hands stole up over the covers and cupped her breasts, mimicking Ned's caress, and in the dream he grinned as she felt it, and in the dream she closed her fist around his cock and grinned as she matched the stroke to his own hand.

He shook his head. "It's as real as we want it to be, isn't it," he said, leaning forward, and he kissed her, his tongue slippery and hot against hers. "Lick your palm," he whispered into her mouth.

She obeyed, letting him push her shirt off, letting him flip her skirt up. She looked at his cock, looked down at the familiar reddish curls between her thighs, and glanced up to see him staring there.

"Curious?" she whispered, grinning, while back in her room she pinched her nipples, her legs moving restlessly under the sheets.

"Yeah," he admitted, and his hips shook a little under her as she ran her newly wet palm down his shaft. "I mean, all I know is from porn."

Her hand stilled. "You didn't just say that."

He miraculously wasn't blushing, and he met her gaze directly. "You'd know if I was lying. Wouldn't you."

And he wasn't lying.

And she wanted to burn it out of him, the images of those other girls, wanton and writhing and moaning for him. Just leave only her.

"Show me," he whispered, against her mouth. "Are you wet for me?"

She tilted her head and kissed him, and when he cupped his hand between her thighs, back in her bed her hand was already in her panties.

Ned broke off the kiss with a soft pop, and his cock jumped in (his/her) fist, and (his/her) fingers twitched between her thighs. "Oh, my _God_ ," he moaned, laughing. "Oh my _God_ , I can feel you, show me how you want me to touch you—"

It was so strange, this double vision, this inexplicable _knowing_. He wanted to feel her mouth on his cock so she pulled herself back up onto the desk and he stood and there was no asking, no uncertainty. She bent down and took his cock in her mouth, slowly, gradually, swirling her tongue gently around the head, walking her fingertips down the underside of his shaft to palm his balls. He buried his hands in her hair and she raked her nails through her pubic hair, her legs falling open, her mouth falling open, tipping her head back, her tongue moving as she sucked his cock in the dream.

Then Ned pushed her shoulder and she detached from him, gazing up at him, and he sat back down.

_It won't be real._

He pushed his fingers up between the slick folds of her inner flesh, into the hollow between her thighs, his thumb coming up to stroke her clit, _exactly exactly_ right, and in her bed she finally, finally let herself do the same, and she arched up, gasping the same way she was in the dream. "That is so hot," he mumbled into her neck as he kissed her collarbone, and then his lips brushed the notch behind her ears and she _trembled_ at the feel of it.

"How would it feel," she gasped, as (his/her) fingers worked between her thighs, circling, stroking, fondling her clit, "if you were here, if you really—"

She cried out as he bit her earlobe, as his teeth scraped against the tender flesh behind her ear, her hips pushing against him. Her palm was stuttering and she felt it

_lick your palm again God baby it would feel so so good to be inside you right now God I want you_

and she licked her palm and pumped his cock in her fist and felt him trembling in his bed, felt his want, felt him

as he grabbed her ass and pulled her forward and she was shaking, jerking with every brush against her clit as he took his cock and

_it isn't real_

She knew that what she _felt_ was three of her own fingers plunging between her thighs but she knew that what she _felt_ was the impossible heat and thickness and length of his cock as he managed to maneuver her into place over him, as he tilted back and urged her

and she took his cock slowly

and in his bed he groaned as his fist stroked his cock rapidly, slick with precum

and in her bed she rolled over, knees spread, hair pulled into her mouth with each gasped breath as she rode her own fingers until they were numb

and Ned bit her neck, hard, hand coming up to give one nipple a brutal pinch as her hand rose to do the same and

they came together, crying out, a plaid skirt damp with their sweat and arousal crushed between their bellies as she fucked him, Ned's fist stilling on his cock as he lost control with a violent shudder, Nancy collapsing to the bed with her fingers still curved up between her thighs as her inner flesh clenched hard around them.

_it isn't real._

She buried her face in the pillow, wincing as she slipped her fingers out, and realized that she would have to face him. In daylight.

And he would know, he already knew, what she had just done, thinking of him the entire time. Thinking of his body on hers, thinking of his cock inside her.

In the dream she slowed, face creased in the terrible pleasure of it, and Ned's face was against her shoulder and she could barely breathe.

"Imagine," he whispered, "what it'll be like when it _is_ real."

\--

They hadn't kissed since. Hadn't touched skin to skin since their walk back after seeing Dr. Gurlock.

She didn't say anything about it, and he didn't either, but she was afraid, afraid that if just the barest brush of his fingers against hers was so almost painfully intimate, that kissing him

_(the thought of his thumbs on the tender flesh behind her ears made her shudder with almost liquid anticipation)_

would drown her.

Dr. Gurlock hadn't said that more direct skin contact would be harmful, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't _know_. If they truly were the first, then everything had just been conjecture, educated guess, hope.

_I'm sure it will wear off. It has to._

What if it didn't.

If he, if they decided to go to bed together, for real this time— it would kill her. Before, the thought of losing her virginity to him had made her nervous, curious, timid and terrified all at the same time, and that was just the physical act.

She couldn't even fathom what it would mean, now, if Gurlock was wrong, if Ned would always be able to do this, to slide into her like her skin was his own and strip her bare, if she was always able to do the same to him in return.

And in a way she could almost believe, now, that he had already taken her virginity, because she _knew_ how it would feel, how he would touch her, how she would touch him in return. She had seen it.

But it hadn't been real. She still hadn't actually seen him naked, hadn't really felt his mouth brush hers, hadn't actually had his cock in her mouth.

She flushed and Ned glanced up at her, from over the table.

They were in the library, with Bess and George, ostensibly studying. She was bent over her French book, going over the conversation she would need to know for the next project.

She took a sip of her diet soda and felt Ned's foot brush hers under the table.

And then it felt like breath, almost a chuckle, his voice almost pleading in her head

 _You really don't_ want _to see my cock?_

She had swallowed half of her sip. The rest tried to go up her nose.

Three minutes later she had her coughing under control and Bess had mopped up the spilled soda and Nancy's eyes were streaming. She glared at Ned, but he had his lower lip poked out.

_Not really._

_But— you think it's—_ Ned glanced down at his lap, then back up to her. She could feel the glance Bess was casting in their direction, but Nancy couldn't look away from him. _Seeing it doesn't—make you—_

 _wet,_ he didn't quite say so much as project, and she saw that skirt again, crumpled between them, felt again her inner thighs slick with her arousal as she clenched around him.

She shifted in her seat.

_I do. Want to see it. Once. To see if it looks the same as it did._

In the dream. In the dream where there was no pain and he knew her every need before she did and she needed only brush over the surface of his mind to know what he desired.

_And that's it?_

He looked crestfallen. She snickered. George shot a glance at her, which Nancy returned, briefly.

_It's just... not..._

_Even when you were sucking it?_

She was prepared that time, and managed to swallow her sip of soda without incident. _Even then._

\--

The game was Saturday afternoon. George had camped out for tickets and managed to wrangle them four, and so Bess invited a cute guy from her art history class and Nancy and George dressed in skinny Emerson tank tops and cutoffs while Bess fussed over her hair and ensemble for four solid hours before the game.

George directed a withering glare at Bess's eyelash curler. "If you put a tenth of this effort toward an alternate-day workout routine—"

"George, don't you _dare_ start," Bess shouted from the bathroom. "If I have to recurl my hair _one_ more _damn_ time—"

George dismissed her cousin's continued rant with a wave of her hand. "So, Nan. Anything you want to tell me?"

Nancy quickly closed her powder compact, whipping her gaze up to look at George. "About what?"

George shrugged. "You just seem different lately."

"It's nothing," Nancy said. But from the look on George's face, she knew her friend wasn't going to let it go. "Ned and I—"

"Had a feeling," George murmured, her lips curled up in a sardonic half-smile. If George would just let Bess give her one of the oft-threatened makeovers, she would have no end of male attention. But she had threatened bodily harm when Bess suggested a little mascara, and her cousin had dropped it, sighing.

"I don't know. I've been thinking about... maybe... you know."

" _Sleeping_ with him?" Bess rushed out of the bathroom, comb still in her hand, her lips a slick berry-pink O of delight. " _God._ I mean, it is about time."

"Bess!" Nancy said, laughing a little in shock.

"What? I mean, since we started here you guys could barely keep your hands off each other—"

George glanced up, then, her eyes narrowing a little. Nancy tried not to look at her, even though George had no idea what she was thinking.

Except in that way Bess and George had always, just a little, been able to figure out what she was thinking. But she couldn't tell them about this, about him.

_What would it hurt._

Nancy shook her head, mostly to herself. Even if she did, and she couldn't, definitely could not tell them, how could they possibly believe it? Sometimes she thought she was still asleep, still dreaming that this impossible thing had happened.

"I know," she said, sinking down onto Bess's bed. "It just feels right, you know?"

Bess nodded, looking at once spellbound and jealous. George pushed Bess's eyelash curler an inch on her dresser, then turned back to Nancy.

"Well, if you think you're ready..." George had a wicked gleam in her eye. "Maybe we should hit the mall this weekend."

Bess's mouth dropped open again. "It's a miracle."

The morning had been sweltering hot. By the time they were in the stands, George with a foam hand on her own, Bess splitting a soda with the cute guy from her class, a light breeze was coming through the field, easing the heat a little.

And she was aware of Ned, had been aware of Ned all day. She could feel the weight of the pads on his shoulders, the hum of his anticipation of the game. She closed her eyes and reached out to him.

_hey baby._

She smiled. _Get out there and kick some ass, okay?_

_What'll you give me if I do?_

He was teasing, mostly. Mostly. But she could feel what he wanted. And it wasn't another of their shared dreams, at once intensely satisfying and terribly disappointing.

He wanted to touch her; even something so simple as the brush of his hand against hers would be enough. He wanted it again, the intoxication, the overwhelming knowledge that he wasn't alone, not as long as they still shared this.

And he missed, and she missed it too, kissing, fingers through each other's hair, eyelashes brushing against a slow-flushed cheek, swaying against each other as they fought the irresistible attraction for the thousandth time.

As terrifying as she found it, it felt like a flame in her, a danger she couldn't force herself to avoid. Because he would touch her again, and as much as she hoped that Gurlock was right, that it would fade over time, part of her didn't want it to fade too much.

There was only one way to know.

_Do a great job out there and maybe I'll voluntarily look at that cock you seem to be so proud of._

He chuckled. _It is_ magnificent, _Nan. It is an amazing cock. I still can't believe it—_

He stopped before actually thinking the word _disgusts,_ but she shook her head.

_I'm sure it is great. And I'm sure you feel the same about mine as I do about yours._

But she knew that wasn't true. He _wanted_ to experience the sensation of her truly, from the inside, wanted to feel her pulse and clench around him, wanted to tease her to a screaming orgasm through the slow manipulation of her clit. He wanted her limp and pleading and ready under him, flushed with desire.

And when she saw that, when she saw what he wanted, she blushed and tightened her thighs, feeling the crowd surge around her as the announcer boomed through the intercom to begin the game.

Bess glanced over at her. "Nan, you okay?"

Nancy raised her head and looked at Bess. "Never better," she said, managing a smile.

Later, she almost felt bad about it. Almost.

Emerson was the obvious favorite in the game, but State was going to make them work for it. At halftime the Wildcats were down by three, and for the first half of the game Nancy had kept out of Ned's head, even though his urgency made everything else fade into the background. Then George took a handful of popcorn kernels and demonstrated the play that would get through the State defense, if they kept running the same plays.

And she let Ned see it, through her eyes.

They ran a variation of it, after State scored again. And Nancy scanned the field, thinking at him as hard as she could. _There, go there. At the edge. He won't catch you._

When the Wildcats scored the winning touchdown with twenty-three seconds left on the clock, Nancy was the first one on her feet, arms up in the air, crying out in celebration.

\--

The victory party at Omega Chi was already in full swing when Ned arrived, freshly showered, his dark hair still a little damp. His satisfaction and pride were obvious, even to people who weren't her, and he looked incredibly sexy.

She almost reached for him, almost, but she dropped her hands back to her sides. She wore a pale yellow sequined tank top and skinny jeans, and he already knew exactly what underwear she was wearing.

_That's one thing I don't like, there's no mystery left._

_Oh, there is. There definitely is._

He made the rounds and she kept a possessive arm around his waist, and being so close to skin-on-skin without quite touching was enough to make her wet. She took a tumbler of the punch, strong enough on her first sip to make her mouth twist.

And she thought, in that second—

 _Yeah_ , he said. _Maybe._

Maybe if it was too much, maybe being drunk would help. Maybe if she was drunk she wouldn't feel that terrible panic again.

He led her up to his room, and she downed the rest of the punch when they reached the landing, her head throbbing hot from the alcohol. Once they were inside he locked the door and turned to her, and her skin prickled in anticipation.

"Aren't you afraid?" she asked, before she could somehow hold it back. As if he didn't know.

Ned shook his head. "I'm afraid of _not_ touching you."

She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed, stepping toward her. "It felt _so good_ , Nan. It feels so good just to—"

 _do this_ , he thought, and she blinked and raised her lashes slowly, peering at him from beneath.

_It feels like drowning._

He shook his head. _It doesn't have to._

He took another step toward her and she glanced down, then back up.

_I think we had an agreement._

Ned chuckled and started unbuttoning his shirt. When she just stood watching, he raised his own eyebrow.

_Aren't you...?_

She shook her head. _Not yet._

He paused for a second but kept going, and she watched him drape his shirt over his desk chair, watched him step out of his pants. He pushed his underwear down, and then he glanced up at her, almost challengingly direct.

But she didn't need to feel embarrassed, and so she didn't. She stepped forward and looked down at his cock, and there was heat radiating from him, _desire_ radiating from him. He reached for her, his palm warm through the fabric of her jeans.

It was like a bottle of pure vodka straight down her throat, him being so close, and when he took another step closer she didn't retreat. And she _did_ want it. She did. She gazed at his mouth.

_Make it a kiss._

He nodded, and for a second only his breath touched her, and then.

_Oh, ohhhh._

His mouth

and his fingertips were

his mouth brushing hers, his fingertips at the point of her jaw

It felt like breaking the surface, the way he was suddenly _everywhere,_ the second his lips touched hers. He breathed out in a long moan and he was naked and she wasn't.

He grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head, without asking, because he didn't need to ask anymore, he just _knew_. He took a little more time with her jeans and panties because that was what she wanted, and when he was working the tight fabric down her legs she unfastened her bra, shrugged it off.

What if it was never like this again, what if they woke and it was gone.

He stood and she laced her fingers in his hair, drew him back down to her again. They kissed hungrily and she backed and he pushed until the backs of her legs were against the mattress, and she sank down, and he sat down beside her.

She climbed onto his lap and brushed her lips just behind his ear, and he threaded his fingers in her hair and tilted his head, shaking as she flicked her tongue over the sensitive skin, then brought her hands up. Just as she brushed her thumbs behind his ears, he did the same to her.

_oh my God yes_

She touched her forehead to his, but it was all centered, it was all radiating from the touch of his fingers against her skin. They just breathed, for a long moment, and she knew what being so close was doing to him, what he wanted to do—

And how much, how terrible was his love for her.

And it called her, drew her past her fear and her caution, as she felt his lips graze the point of her jaw, felt him press a slow sweet kiss just behind her ear, and she sighed. She had never let herself love him this way. She had always been aware, deep down, that it would never last, that something would part them—

_It won't, we won't be like them, baby, we won't, this is forever_

_but_

He pulled back and she gazed into his eyes, and she was straddling his thighs, they were naked, and that wasn't what had her trembling.

He loved her. Oh, how he loved her, through the fear of losing her, of a midnight phone call, of seeing her bleeding and broken in his arms, and she could feel that in him.

And she had never let herself. Not like this.

She closed her eyes.

She had never let herself believe they would last, that they could make it through the jealousy and constant distraction of her cases. Before him she had never believed anyone would be able to keep up with her, that anyone could love her enough to put up with it.

He had whispered it to her, not long after she had started her first year at Emerson. On their backs, hands joined between them on the picnic blanket, giggling up at the sky.

_I will be here for you forever, Nan. For as long as you want me to be._

But that wasn't true, had never been true. What he had known then and what she knew now was that he would never, ever stop loving her. Even if they did break up, even if she said she never wanted to see him again, this wouldn't end between them.

He touched the point of her chin, tilting her face up, as she took a shuddering breath.

_Look at me, Nan._

She opened her eyes and tears slipped down her cheeks.

_I know you love me._

She pushed herself up and kissed him, slowly, sliding her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her in return.

_I do, baby, I love you so much._

He pulled her to him and she stayed on her knees as his hands lingered at the small of her back. He fell onto his back and she knelt over him, her hair brushing his shoulders as she kissed him again, the tips of her nipples brushing his chest.

She didn't want to let go. She didn't. Because if she let herself care this much about him and she lost him... she remembered it, dimly, the way her father had been after her mother's death, how utterly lost he had been, how much he missed her even now.

_I will never leave you._

And he meant it.

She pulled back and rolled off him, and he rolled with her, onto his side, gazing down at her as she trembled.

"Nan," he whispered, his voice almost harsh after the silence. He stroked his palm up and down her side, slowly. "Shhh."

If she hadn't felt how calm he was, she would have lost it then. But he understood, and he leaned down and kissed her, and she ran her fingers through his hair.

A knock sounded at his door. "Hey, Nickerson! Come on, we gotta make a beer run."

Ned pulled back. "Later," he called, and she giggled, swiping at her wet face.

Then he trailed his hand between her thighs and she opened her legs to him, gazing up at him. She still felt flushed and hot, her head was pounding, it was still like walking the very edge of a cliff, but this, at least, was barely familiar. Just not with the lights on.

She didn't like the idea of him seeing her like this, but then, she knew how he loved it, loved to be able to see what he was doing to her, loved to be able to see her. He found her clit with his thumb and she reached for his cock, her fist closing around it gently.

It felt so _fucking_ good to make him feel good. Her hand stroked his shaft and Ned's entire body was centered on the sensation and his delight echoed into her, even as he stroked her clit and she arched under him, her hips rocking into the movement.

He wanted to taste her. He wanted to feel her mouth on him. And more, so much more, but she let that rest, for now.

She took her hand off his cock and pushed him onto his back, and he let out a low, dark chuckle as she pushed her hair behind her ears and stood up on her knees.

_We don't have to—_

_I want to._

She wanted to make him feel good. And she had wondered for a long time, what his tongue would feel like between her thighs, what it would be like to make him come with just a swirl of her own tongue.

He swung her over him and she let her legs slide apart almost immediately, his hand on her ass guiding her until she could feel his breath between her thighs. She propped herself up on her elbows and gazed down at his cock, then licked her palm

_fuck yes oh God yes baby_

and stroked it, slowly.

He slid a finger between her slick inner lips and stroked upward, until he was almost, almost touching her clit, and she moaned and circled her hips.

And he wanted it, so much it hurt, so she dipped her head and licked the head of his cock, and in return he pushed his thumb against her clit and she shivered.

It was so strange, _knowing_ what felt good to him. When she took half his length in her mouth and flicked her tongue over his cock, his pleasure was white-hot. The second her teeth touched his tender flesh she flinched back, knowing that it hurt him.

And when he pressed his fingers up between her thighs, slowly thrusting in and out of her, and his tongue flicked over her clit, she trembled in delight. He sucked her clit, gently at first, and made his thrusts shorter, harder, as she burbled, his cock hot and hard in her mouth

_yesyesyesyesGod yes_

and she tasted the slick salt of his precum.

_i want to come with you_

She slowed and he ran his tongue gently up the slick folds of her inner flesh, and his teeth glanced over her clit and she shook, the tip of her tongue flicking against the head of his cock. He did it again and her hips jerked in answer, and he wanted to roll her over—

But she didn't, and so he pushed down on her ass and she let her knees spread even more. He sucked her clit and she ran her damp fingers over his inner thighs, gently cupping his balls. He shook under her, her breasts heavy against his belly.

When it was all she could do to keep herself from screaming she took his cock in her mouth again, keeping her movements quick but gentle, as his fingers plunged home inside her again and again, as her hips circled and dipped to him.

It wasn't the way she tasted. He loved what his tongue was doing to her, he loved the slick texture of her inner flesh against his tongue, the heat, the ripple as she first began to come. She had always been afraid to suggest this, afraid the thought of eating her out would disgust him.

She gasped against his cock and his hips rocked under her, and he came with her, his seed hitting the back of her throat as she bore down and tightened against his fingers. She kept caressing him until she knew he was oversensitive and pulled back, and when she tried to roll off him he followed, and—

"Ned," she sobbed out, jerking instinctively as his thumb drew tight circles around the wet nub of her clit, his fingers still working between her legs. He was lazy, sated, curious, and she was burning up, her legs loose and open on the bed as he brought her to another orgasm. When she was panting her breath back he finally, with one last soft stroke, pulled his fingers out of her.

Ned was smiling when she finally opened her eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows. She was flushed and gleaming and to him she looked, she _felt_ , utterly gorgeous.

_So. Did it match up?_

_Yeah._ And even though he was spent, even though every nerve in her was humming in pleasure, her gaze still drifted back to his cock, and her eyes was hooded when they rose to his again.

He cupped one of her breasts gently, giving her nipple a stroke before he reached for his underwear. The beer run she had nearly forgotten about.

 _Stay here._ He liked the idea of coming back to her, finding her naked and sprawled over his bed.

_Fuck that. I'm coming with._

He was laughing when he unlocked the door, ushering her out.

\--

It was a thousand little things. It was the heat shimmering on the pavement and Ned's memory of a pool in his best friend's backyard the summer he was eight. It was the dreams and how they slowly became just him and her facing each other in the darkness, the way she gave up and just went to bed naked in anticipation. It was the first away game of the season, kissing him goodbye because she had to stay behind and work on a project, preoccupied the entire time, half of her on a football field three hours away. It was her sudden knowledge that he was hurt and how it lanced through her so violently that she screamed in pain even before Bess's call came through to tell her. It was when the suspect she was pursuing managed to get the jump on her and she reached out to Ned in a split-second of distress, and woke to find him gazing at her with tender concern, two cops in tow.

If anything it was stronger. She could still _feel_ him when she left for fall break a few hours early and they were two hundred miles apart, just as close as if he was in the next room.

And she had to watch herself. George and Bess had caught her more than a few times, distracted by Ned, by the sensation of an imagined hand running down the length of her spine, by the warmth of his voice in her head. Every now and then she couldn't resist returning the favor, and she loved how easy it was to command his attention.

They walked together hand-in-hand up the path to Harrison, feeling a little guilty. After their initial meeting with Dr. Gurlock, they had both forgotten to come by again. She rationalized it by saying that if he really needed to see them, he would have contacted them.

And, she had to admit, they were both a little afraid that he would greet them with the news that there was an antidote, a cure, an end. It wasn't that it had been perfect; sometimes she had felt him at the outskirts of her mind when she just wanted to be alone, and a few times she had seen how he looked at other women when she wasn't around, but she knew he loved her. It was just so hard to let herself let go, to put her fear aside and return his love the way she wished she could.

The building was too quiet when they walked in. The lab door was shut, and the keypad glowed; Nancy couldn't see anyone on the other side.

_Maybe we should've called ahead._

Nancy's lips twisted in the ghost of a smile. _You've got a bad feeling about this too._

_I've seen a lot of horror movies. I know exactly how this ends._

They heard a sound from the other side of the door, and he caught her hand in his, moving quickly as they ducked into a convenient alcove. The slender Asian girl—

Well, she wasn't a girl, not now. The frayed, faded jeans, hipster t-shirt and high-tops had been replaced by a tailored suit and pumps. A silver bracelet swung from her wrist as she breezed through the lab door, a cell phone headset clipped to her ear.

"Yeah. I'll set them up for interview them tomorrow. Yeah... and if they— okay, yeah. I'll have someone standing by."

Nancy and Ned glanced at each other, and for the five minutes they waited to leave, their hands were clasped tight.

\--

"This is Dr. Gurlock. I'm out of my office right now. If you need immediate assistance, please contact my secretary at extension 2324. If you have questions about any of the experiments conducted in the department, please contact the academic liaison at extension 4781. My email address is degurlock@emerson.edu. Have a nice day."

A pleasant robotic female voice followed the message. "If you would like to leave a message, please press one. If you have a callback..."

"Who's that?"

Nancy's eyes widened as she tried to come up with a plausible lie. Bess shouldered her backpack off and filched a small handful of chocolate candies from the bag on Nancy's desk.

"Just trying to leave a message for my French teacher."

The robot voice had stopped while she was distracted. Nancy punched the star button, hoping she would repeat.

"The best way to reach me is via email," said Gurlock's recorded voice, and she could sense his panic. "Please try that before leaving me a recorded message."

_Yeah, that's a good sign._

Bess was saying something, and Nancy had to make the effort to hear her over the sound of Ned's thoughts. "We should so get Chinese takeout tonight. Think Ned's game?"

_Ned is very game._

"Probably," Nancy chuckled. "George?"

"Of course."

Bess headed out to call her cousin and Nancy pulled up her email account, then composed a short email to Dr. Gurlock, explaining that she wanted to interview him for an article. Less than five minutes later she received an out-of-office automated reply.

It was only later, after George and Ned were clearing up the greasy empty boxes of decimated fried rice and pepper steak and black bean chicken that she heard her email notification chime again.

_I told them there was no exposure._

_Don't let them take any blood._

_If they try to get you in a car, run._

When Nancy glanced back at Ned, his face was pale.

\--

"It's just a few questions, Miss Drew. We found some irregularities in Dr. Gurlock's lab, and we were hoping you could help."

Nancy furrowed her brow. "I've only met him once, but sure, I would be happy to help."

The woman had introduced herself as Sharon, pausing a little when she would have given her title, and she looked ill at ease over her notebook. In another room, Ned was being interrogated by a falsely hearty middle-aged agent.

They had already gone over their story. Nancy was concentrating hard on not consulting with him, not making their answers too pat to be believable.

"You investigated a theft from his lab; is that correct?"

Nancy nodded. "Well, I didn't know it was from his lab at the time."

"And you did eventually recover the compound."

She nodded again.

"According to his notes, a vial was destroyed during that recovery. Were you exposed to the compound during that time?"

Nancy shook her head. "Ned and I were in pursuit of the suspect. By the time we came back, it was already being cleaned up."

Sharon cast a speculative glance at Nancy. "You're positive about that."

Nancy nodded. "If you don't mind my asking, what was it?"

Sharon gave her a thin, humorless smile. "I can't really say, Miss Drew. Would you mind if I took a blood sample?"

"It wouldn't be something you could just get from my doctor, would it?" Nancy stretched out an arm, revealing a band-aid on the inside of her elbow. "I just went for a physical this morning and I've been feeling pretty dehydrated in this heat."

Sharon glanced back at her notes. "Have you experienced any unusual symptoms?"

Ned. She felt invisible fingertips stroke down the back of her hand. Nancy shook her head. "I caught a cold a few days later," she said, trying to sound helpful.

Sharon sighed. "I may have some follow-up questions, if that's all right."

\--

_They'll find out, won't they._

Ned stroked her hair back from her face, slowly. _I think if we're careful that they won't._

Now that it would be ridiculously dangerous to do so, she wanted to hear his voice, his real voice, while they talked about this. But this way, with his voice in her head, his hand slowly stroking her hair, she wanted to fall asleep, just forget the panic she'd been feeling since Sharon called her and arranged the interview.

The blood was a clean sample of the right type, but it wasn't hers. Ned had managed to do the same.

Dinner had been just the way she had always imagined a romantic evening—and not. The candlelight, yes. Exquisite food, yes. But she hadn't imagined that it would be on a picnic blanket, at the edge of Emerson Woods, when the night was just turning the edge of cool, the crisp tang of broken dying leaves in the air. The roses he had given her were in a makeshift vase on his dresser.

When they were this close it was almost like a script that she had to follow, but she didn't, not really. She rolled onto her back and threaded her fingers in his hair, drawing him down to her for a kiss, and as he returned it he slipped his hand down to the hem of her gown, fingertips brushing her thigh. She twisted her shoulders and Ned trailed his hand back up, to cup her breast, loose and rosy-tipped under the textured silk.

They had limited themselves to fingers and mouths, but she could sense what he wanted, what he had wanted for so long, what they dreamed about. His cock was stirring under his fly, and she brushed the backs of her fingers over his erection.

_I love you._

He pulled back and gazed down at her, still gently stroking her breast. _I know you do, baby. I love you too._

She glanced at his mouth, and he brought her hand up to him, brushed his lips over her knuckles. Her skin tingled whenever it touched his, humming in pleasure at the intimacy of it.

_I want to spend the rest of my life with you._

Ned's lips parted in a silent gesture of surprise. "Nancy," he said, hoarsely.

She gave him a quick nervous smile. _I was..._

_So afraid._

His hand had fallen away, and the indirect heat of his skin through the fabric of his pants and her gown wasn't enough. She pushed herself up, facing him.

_I think it's always been true, I just didn't want it to be._

He smiled at her, but she knew the doubt behind his eyes. He needed to know that this wouldn't fade if their connection did.

She stood up on her knees and put her arms around him, brushed her lips against the hollow behind his ear, and he let out a slow shivering moan.

He had said that it didn't have to be so overwhelming, that it didn't have to feel like drowning.

It was like breaking the surface.

The guilt, the disappointment, the anger at herself, her fear. She had wanted so much to feel what he did, to give herself over to something so powerful, so consuming, and she let it go. Ned tenderly brushed her hair back, his hand trembling, and slid his thumb behind her ear.

He was all around her and he was _desire_ and joy, and she swayed over him. It felt _so good,_ so much more profound than any other time she had felt his hands on her.

 _I'll never leave you_ , she whispered, their lips barely brushing as she brought her other hand up to his other ear. _I could never leave you._

It was like agony, telling him what he could already sense, what he already knew. When she came to herself, endless moments later, she was straddling his waist.

In the same moment she swung off him and he started wrestling his pants off. She needed to feel his skin, needed _him_. She pulled her gown off, leaving her in her underwear.

He had condoms. She knew he did, because he knew. He had bought them in anticipation of a night like this, with her.

She slid over the bed and opened the drawer in his bedside table, pulling out one of the foil packets. Then Ned reached for her hand and that slow hum of awareness bloomed into the sensation of him inside her, the warm glow of his presence in her head, and she turned to him, tilting her head at the incredible wonder of it. He brushed his thumb over her parted lips and every bare inch of her skin prickled with heat and desire.

_We should talk about this._

Her eyes opened, lazily. _I love you. I love you, and I will never love anyone the way I love you. And nothing ever scared me so much in my life. I don't— I don't want to be without you, and now I know you will never leave me..._

He brushed a tear off her cheek and shook his head. _You want to spend the rest of your life with me._ His grin was infectious, and when she brushed his earlobe gently with her thumb he arched into it, tilting his head.

_I will. You promised._

He cupped her bare breast in his palm and flicked his tongue over her nipple, and she groaned, the sensation like fire up her spine. He found the other, lifting her up, and she dragged her nails gently down his back, stroking her fingertips just over the cleft of his ass. With a growl he slipped his arms around her and pushed her to her side, and she laughed in delight, her chuckle turning to a long moan as he suckled against her breast again.

_Wow._

The sensation, the feel of his tongue, went directly to her clit, and they felt her tense, felt how wet she was in answer. But she could already feel him trying to hold back.

_I want this._

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. _And we have the rest of our lives, and I've already waited this long._

She relaxed, then, even as he moved over her, closing his eyes in pleasure as she bent her legs and stroked her knees against his sides. The firm heat of his cock pressed against her panties as his hips rocked against hers, and he stroked his thumb over her still-damp nipple, drawing a moan from her.

_I want to feel you inside me, Ned, I want to feel you come_

Ned groaned, tugging roughly at her panties. She knew how he wanted her and his touch was intoxicating.

_I don't want you to be just who I'm imagining. I want you._

Like those dreams, that other girl, that fantasy who would never disappoint him, and how faintly amused and slightly aroused she had been, seeing herself the way he wanted her to be.

But that wasn't what he wanted, at all.

_I want to make you happy._

She did. The impulse was as strong as she had ever felt. It was deeper than the shared pleasure of their connection. And he felt it, too.

He sighed, even though he was smiling, and pulled her panties entirely off. Then he took her foot in his warm palms and kissed her ankle, her calf, the hollow behind her knee. She sighed and arched as he hooked her knee over his shoulder, working his way up, slowly. He ran his tongue up the tender sensitive flesh of her inner thigh and she shivered.

_Let me—_

_Not yet._

He gave her a hickey and she squealed, rolling her hips up, sliding her other leg up over his shoulder. When he reached the join of her thighs she opened her legs fully to him and he blew gently against the sensitive flesh, his thumbs barely brushing the seam of her lips. When she felt like she was ready to scream, he began with the lightest stroke against her, following with another, another. His thumb kept moving teasingly close to her clit without quite touching it.

She let out a frustrated cry, her heels tightening against his back, and she felt his cock jump in answer. Oh, _God,_ how much he wanted it, how much he wanted to sheathe himself inside her in one quick, brutal thrust, to feel the slick heat of her enfold him as he rocked into her.

And she wanted it, too, even though the prospect frightened her. To fit _him_ , the length and girth of him, inside her—

His thumb found her clit.

_I want you so wet, wetter than you've ever been_

_oh, oh my God_

His fingers worked inside her, first one, then two, as he circled, rubbed, stroked her clit, her legs limp and open fully to him, her face flushing with the pleasure of it. When he pushed a third finger into the hot slick hollow of her sex she arched hard under him, until the crown of her head was against his pillow, and she was panting, whimpering.

_Nancy._

He had to stop touching her, to unwrap the condom, and she squeezed her thighs tight together, holding the sensation in, the pulse of her want. His fingers were slick with her arousal and it took him a few tries to rip open the packet, and she pushed herself up on her elbows in frustration, ready to slice it open with her teeth if that was what it took. She watched him, felt his pleasure as he stroked his palm, still slick and warm from touching her, over his cock, and then he rolled the condom on and it was _real_ , this was _real._

He angled himself down to her and his other hand found her clit and she let out a low moan, pushing against him.

_I love you—_

_I love you._

Then the head of his cock slid down her wet flesh, until he was touching her inner lips, and she slowed, stilled, gone curious and quiet as she concentrated on what he was doing.

_Relax._

They both knew it was ridiculous even as he thought it. She reached up and ran her hand over his hair, then deliberately traced her thumb behind his ear, and his cock jumped in answer, pushing into her just a little more.

Oh, it _hurt._

He pulled back and out of her and she relaxed, panting in relief, and then he kissed her. She slid her arms around his neck and the length of his cock was against her inner lips, and he rubbed against her, and when she just barely thought it he reached between them—

" _Oh_ ," she moaned, circling her hips as the head of his cock bumped her clit. His tongue dipped into her mouth and her nails raked over his shoulder blades, and as he moved over her she could feel his desire, raw and burning.

She reached down between them, angling him back down, and when he nudged into her again, she bit her lip, grasping his hips to keep him from backing away again.

_Yes._

He kept his thrusts shallow, gentle, aware the entire time of how it felt for her, tight and sore. He ran his thumbnail over her clit and she sobbed out a cry, and he made his strokes against it faster, then slower, rough and soft, alternating to drive her orgasm higher and higher. He pushed his cock just a little deeper—

and oh how it _hurt_ , and oh how she wanted to know how it would be, when he was completely inside her, when he wasn't gritting his teeth in the pain of holding himself back.

But he didn't want her to hurt. He wanted this to be perfect for her, special, and when he couldn't control himself anymore he pulled out of her and before he could do anything she was rolling the condom off, she was dipping her fingers between her legs and grasping his cock, her fingers slick with her arousal. He thrust his fingers hard between her thighs, circling her clit as she stroked his cock, light and quick. She folded her legs up under her to push her hips into his touch and his teeth sank into her neck, and when she cried out he soothed the pain with a slow kiss, as she first began to come.

He pushed his fingers as deep as he could inside her, and she rippled and pulsed around him, whimpering his name. She brushed the ball of her thumb over the head of his cock at the end of a stroke and he jerked against her, and he came, groaning, his forehead against her shoulder.

They stayed like that, tangled, gasping, for a long, long moment. The press of his fingers inside her was warm, comfortable, and when he slowly pulled them out of her she tightened, wincing at the brush of his fingertips over the sensitive flesh.

_I'm sorry._

He pushed himself up so he could gaze down at her face. _Why?_

_I know how much you want it—_

He brushed her hair behind her ear. _We have all the time in the world, baby._

She smiled. _So tomorrow, then?_

He laughed and she folded her legs around him, her face against his neck.

\--

They were going to get together that next night, but his frat brothers dragged him off for a wet t-shirt contest and she had to go over her notes for a French test. The next night Bess and George begged her to go to the movies, and they ended up at a diner after, and by the time she got back to her room she could barely hold her eyes open.

Nancy was on her way to class the next day, sifting through her bag looking for her ID, when she felt it, the barest flicker of alarm from him.

She saw it, through his eyes. A black van, a forearm covered in thick brown hair. The sick-sweet smell of chloroform hit her, quick as a flash.

And then he wasn't there anymore.

Before, she had been rushing to class. Three minutes before the professor would lock the door.

Now she stood, swaying gently, as the other students flowed around her.

_Ned._

She pulled her cell phone out, considered calling him, but she knew that what she had just seen was true. He had been kidnapped.

She dialed campus security. "Hi, Lieutenant Esterline, please?"

After she had arranged to have Ned's cell tracked, Nancy called Bess, who had a free period. Bess answered on the fourth ring, laughter in her voice. "Hello?"

"Ned's in trouble."

Bess sobered immediately. "What do you want me to do?"

An hour later, Nancy and Bess were standing outside George's classroom, waiting for her to emerge. As soon as she saw them, George raised her eyebrows.

"You two look like something terrible has happened."

Nancy nodded. "It's Ned. He's missing."

"What? He was at lunch with us, what, two hours ago?"

"He's gone."

George shook her head. "I mean, he probably just lost his cell or something—"

Nancy shook her head. "I... need to tell you two something."

The entire walk to George's car, the cousins kept casting glances at each other. Bess was reassuring, saying she was sure everything was fine. George, though, looked like she was bursting at the seams.

Nancy slid into the passenger seat, and as soon as she was seated in the back Bess was leaning through the opening between the front seats. George took her keys out but left them on her lap.

"What?" she said, off Nancy's look. "I am not putting this car in gear until you spill, Drew."

Nancy sighed. "Look, you're not going to believe me, and that's okay, but I... I know where Ned is. Or at least I know which direction he is from here."

George made a speed-it-up gesture. Bess unwrapped a stick of gum and popped it into her mouth.

"It all started with that case, right before classes started back."

She told them the whole story, more or less, as quickly as she could. While Gurlock had been right, Nancy was sure that the agents had Ned, and that keeping it a secret from Bess and George for any longer wouldn't make that much of a difference.

"And, right before he passed out, I saw—a black van. A man with thick brown hair on his arms."

Nancy sat back, rummaging for the bottle of water in her bag. Her mouth was dry from all the talking. She didn't look at Bess or George; she was already keyed up and didn't want to see their eyebrows raised in concern that she had finally lost it.

"And that's it?" George said, her keys sliding in her lap as she shifted.

Nancy nodded, recapping her water. "Pretty much."

" _I knew it!_ "

"You _knew it?_ " Bess and Nancy chorused, then glanced at each other.

"Well, I thought you guys had gotten engaged, but yeah."

"That is _so_ not the same—" Bess began.

"But it's just as plausible," George replied. "Some ultra top-secret drug gives Nancy and Ned mutant powers, or she actually says yes."

Bess tilted her head, acknowledging her cousin's point.

For her part, Nancy closed her eyes, and took a slow, shuddering breath.

_I want to spend the rest of my life with you._

Maybe that wasn't so long as she had thought.

"Nan?" George was peering at her when she opened her eyes. "You okay? Was it...?"

Nancy swiped at her eyes. "No, not him. Not—like that. You guys actually believe me?"

Bess and George glanced at each other. "Well," George said first, "I mean, you _sound_ normal..."

"And so many weird things have happened to us," Bess added.

George shrugged. "Why not."

Nancy chuckled and took a deep breath. "Okay. We need to go west."

As soon as they were headed for the interstate, Nancy's cell rang. "We've located Mr. Nickerson's phone, in a bush outside Lewis Hall."

Two buildings down from Harrison. "Thanks, Lieutenant Esterline," Nancy said. "We're going to go look for him."

"Be careful," he cautioned her. "And for the love of God, call for backup if you need it."

\--

They grabbed their meals at fast-food restaurants and switched off driving responsibilities, turning up the loud hip-hop stations to keep from falling asleep.

"So how do you know he's this way?" Bess asked, after a long sip of her diet soda.

Nancy shook her head, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she merged into the next lane. "I don't know. I'm just sure he is."

"But how can you be sure?" Bess asked.

Nancy shrugged. "How the hell is it that I can read his thoughts in the first place? There isn't anything about this yet that's made sense."

George leaned over in her seat to study the GPS. "And there's no destination we can put in," she asked again, still hopeful.

Nancy shook her head. "I think they're slowing down, though."

She was glad they knew, finally. She had hated not telling them.

Bess had her soda down to ice when she leaned up between the seats again. "So when you make out, is it, like, _epic?_ "

George snorted. "This is major, Bess. The kind of discovery that could change everything. And you just want to know if it makes making out hotter."

Nancy glanced over at her friends. "To be honest... yeah. Making out is a _thousand_ times better."

"Something even better than making out with a chiseled Greek god in human form like Ned," Bess sighed enviously. "You have _all_ the luck, Nan."

"That's what I keep hoping," Nancy said, heading for the next exit.

When they were too exhausted to drive anymore, they found a cheap motel on the interstate and got a room. Bess and George tumbled into bed and were passed out almost immediately. Nancy just stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rattling burble of the air conditioning unit in the corner.

_Ned._

A few times she had felt him, agonizingly close to consciousness, but then he had been gone again, slipped away. Tonight, though, maybe they would let him sleep, and maybe he would come to her in his dreams again. She just had to be awake so she could talk to him.

She counted her heartbeats until her eyes wouldn't stay open.

When she woke, she still felt hollow, alone.

\--

The pull to him was strongest in a small town five hundred miles away, at the edge of a lake. George was driving, and Nancy directed her to park about a mile away so they could do some recon.

"Are you sure about this?" George asked.

"He's really close," Nancy replied. "Yeah."

"I mean... Nan, you and Ned have known each other for so long, and I know how it is when you think you can almost... know what someone else is thinking..."

Nancy turned to stare at George, thunderstruck. "You come all this way even though you think I'm just losing it, or what?"

George took a sip of orange juice. "I trust your hunches, Nan. And I think this is just a really good hunch."

Nancy glanced back at Bess. "Is that what you think too?"

Bess shrugged. "I don't know," she said, sounding pained. "But isn't what's important whether Ned's here or not, and whether we can save him?"

And Nancy had practically nothing on her. This was going to take a great plan.

\--

She had almost talked her way through the distraction in front of the guards when she felt it again, felt Ned regaining consciousness. It had been so long that she was oversensitive to it now, and she blinked hard.

_It's a trap._

His voice was faint in her head, urgent, but it was too late. They grabbed her, calmly, as though they had known the whole time. They probably had.

_I love you._

She felt him return the sentiment just before she passed out.

\--

She woke in her dorm room three days later, and immediately clutched at her head, groaning. It felt like the worst hangover she'd had in quite a long time.

Ned. The hours in the car, the need to find him. The guards.

Then nothing.

She reached out to him— and felt nothing.

She scrabbled for her cell phone on her bedside table, but Ned's phone just rang and rang. She remembered that it might still be with campus security and hung up, then dialed Mike's number.

"Hello?"

"Mike!" Nancy had to work hard to keep the hysteria from creeping into her voice. "Mike, hey! Is Ned there?"

"Dunno. Did you try his cell?"

Nancy bit her lip to keep from screaming. "Yeah, I tried his cell. No answer. And it's really, _really_ important that I talk to him. Could you please check and see if he's there?"

"Okay, okay," Mike grumbled, sounding tired. While she listened to him climb the stairs she started tapping her fingertips on the edge of the mattress, harder and harder until she was slamming her entire palm into it.

"Nickerson! Hey!"

A door. A creaking door. Nancy's heart leapt and she tried to reach out again, but again, nothing.

"Hello?"

" _Ned!_ " Nancy blinked and a pair of tears slipped down her cheeks. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I feel like I drank a couple kegs last night," he said, his voice a low growl. "Jesus. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Now that I've heard your voice."

But she knew, had known since she woke, since before. She and Ned arranged to meet for lunch between classes and as soon as she saw him, she tugged him into an alcove, and his hands flew to her face, the point of her jaw, behind her ears.

She was steeling herself for it, a little, but there was nothing. The touch of his skin against hers made her feel almost lightheaded, but she still couldn't hear him in her head. Not even the slightest sound.

Ned sighed. "It's gone, baby."

She shook her head, drawing his head down to hers so she could brush a kiss over his lips. Nothing more than the usual electric tingle sliding down her spine.

He pulled back, and she was crestfallen.

"Hey," he said gently. "We had it for a little while."

She nodded. "Yeah," she sighed.

\--

It all started to feel like a dream. When they were alone, when his hands were all over her, when she was moaning, whispering what she wanted, it felt like insanity, the memory of him in her head.

But she couldn't forget the grin that had crossed his face when she had told him that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She couldn't forget how startling, how terrible that first time in Gurlock's lab had been.

But it was done.

And when Ned, over Christmas break, took her to an intimate Italian restaurant in Chicago and got down on one knee before dessert, she couldn't have been more surprised, couldn't have been happier.

When he kissed her, the ring still cool and newly-placed on her finger, his thumb stroked the hollow behind her ear, and she shivered at the sensation.

For the rest of her life, she knew, she would try to forget it, what they could never have again. And she never would.

Because it had given her him.

\--

She was dreaming.

They were in his bedroom, at his parents' house. Trophies lined the walls. A stack of freshly-folded clothes waited on his desk to be put away. The summer sun drifted through the blinds.

She gazed up at him. "I wish this was real."

"Me too."

She felt the echo of his words, in her head, and brought her hands up to touch him, to brush over that sensitive place behind his ear. In answer he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, and she backed him up to the bed, where he sat down. He spread his knees and she stepped between, stroking his shoulders, running her fingers through his hair.

He glanced at the head of the bed. "Well."

She chuckled. "Even in my dreams you have a one-track mind, Nickerson."

He reached up and wrapped his arms around her waist. "There is no way I _can't_ have a one-track mind when I'm around someone this beautiful."

She smiled. "You're just telling me what I want to hear."

"So what if I am."

She slid onto the bed, loosely straddling his waist, and he let out a soft pleased sound. "I never knew how alone it was," she whispered, touching her forehead to his, "until now. I miss you so much."

"I miss you too."

He kissed her slowly, tenderly, until the dream came apart around her, until her eyes were open in the dark. She turned to her alarm clock, her cell phone.

_Ned, if you can hear me..._

_Call me._

Her heart was beating painfully hard in her chest, as she stared at the phone. She felt almost sick with longing. Whatever had happened to them in that compound, whatever had left Bess and George convinced that they had all just suffered a little break from reality, she knew that she needed to leave it alone, for all of their sakes.

Then her phone rang.

Her heart almost beat out of her chest before she managed to answer it.

"Nan, were you—"

"I was—"

_In my room. Waiting for you._

She sighed, tears rising in her eyes. _Oh, Ned._

"Sorry. I'm sorry for waking you up." _Tell me to come over tomorrow. Right now, even. Oh my God, Nan, I can't believe this..._

"I'm sorry too. But while I have you on the phone, are you free tomorrow?"

_You know they're still listening._

_We will be so careful, baby._

"For you, always."


End file.
